


Dying Again

by Pull



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And I want them to meet, Basically Tony Stark is the reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes, Gen, Mention of Sherlock Holmes Universe, No one can tell me no, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Reincarnation, Resurrection, Yon-Rogg is John Watson, blood transfusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-02-26 11:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18716044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pull/pseuds/Pull
Summary: 'Thank you,' he thought to the greatest woman in his life, hoping the message would somehow reach her. 'I love you.'Tony remembered dying. Until a voice cut through his rapidly disappearing consciousness.“I can save him.”Yon-Rogg didn’t know why he said it.





	1. Chapter 1

“I can save him.”

Yon-Rogg didn’t know why he said it.

They won. It’s over. Thanos died, everyone came back. He came back. Everyone was safe. The universe was safe. He had fought in the war, doing his take with these strangers only for the sake of gratitude and respect. He had done enough. His role was done. There’s nothing he could do anymore.

They won with low casualties. Only a few lives, a few strangers he didn’t even know and never meet. He respected them, mourned for them, but their deaths didn’t hit him that hard. Every lives was precious, every death was sad, but he had respected them, fight for them in a war he knew nothing about. His action was enough. He didn’t need to do more.

So why did he feel like he need to do more?

He was supporting Carol, her arms were thrown over his shoulder as they slowly made their way to where the man in red iron suit sat motionless, unmoving, died. There were three people in front of him—all of them were wearing the same iron suit with different color and model—a man, a woman, and a kid. Family and comrades, mourning for him. Mourning for their loved one. Yon knew how it feels like to lose someone. His stomach churned at the thought, painful and bitter.

He and Carol just wanted to pay their respect, like all of the people who slowly made their way toward them. He knew what the man did, saw it right in front of his eyes. He was a hero and he deserved to be respected.

“I can bring him back,” he said it again, making all eyes turned on him. Some with surprise, some with disbelief, some with curiosity, some with accusation, and some with hope.

The woman’s eyes were emotionless when she turned to him, dead and empty like the man in front of her. No hope, no surprise, no anger, nothing. Only sadness and silent acceptance. It was as if she died along with him. Maybe she really did. Yon refused to meet her gaze.

Carol turned to him in surprise. There were something in her eyes, the usual look she often gave him when she disagree with his decision but couldn’t really stop him. Yon ignored her.

“What do you mean?” asked the man in grey iron suit.

“I’m a Kree. My blood can resurrect the dead as long as the body is still fresh. But we need the technologies in the Skrull planet. If we leave right now, we may still have time to save him,” Yon said urgently, stealing a glance at the dead man. With how he looked like now, the arm couldn’t be saved even with Kree’s tremendous natural healing ability. But hopefully, the damage didn’t affect the heart that much or else everything will be in vain.

The boy’s mouth formed a perfect circle before he closed it and gasped in surprise. “You’re an alien!” he exclaimed. “Y-You mean you can resurrect him like in the Alien: Resurrection?”

That surely wasn’t a thing he ever heard about, not even in Carol’s random ramble that usually consist of some kind of earth culture. He did know that “Alien” is a term in which the terran used to refer to living creature outside of the earth. Other than that, he was lost. He didn’t understand what the kid mean. He looked at Carol for clues but she just shrugged her shoulder.

He was about to reply when a raccoon cut him off.

“Hold on, you’re a Kree?” he said standing up and looking at him. “The race that literally hold a grudge with every being in the universe? The world conquer race that seeking a war anywhere they went? Those colonial bastards? That same Kree?”

Yon didn’t flinch when he heard it. He got used to it by now.

“Wait, wait, what’s a Kree?”a big green man asked. Yon did a double take when he saw him, but considering what he had seen across the universe, he still considered him normal.

“The second greatest war empire before Thanos,” said a blue robotic woman calmly. Her eyes were a pool of black as she studied him with a look he couldn’t place. He felt like he had seen her before, back in his brief encounter with Ronan. But it was a long time ago and the memory was blurry.

Well, people changed.

“A villain of the universe, other than Thanos of course. If you hear about a planet fighting in war, it mostly with them,” the raccoon piped up again, squinting his eyes at him, hands picking up his weapon. It didn’t point his gun at him yet but he could feel the tension raising in the air.

Carol was tense beside him. Her fist glowing a soft red fire but he tighten the grip on her arms, willing her to stay calm. They couldn’t afford a fight. He just wanted to help.

“Asgard had a fight with the Kree a long time ago,” a man with long braided beard spoke up. He was tall and a little bit overweight thought it didn’t make him any less intimidating. He held an axe on his right hand, lightning danced around it. His mismatched eyes were sharp and staring at him intently.

“Your race is cold-blooded killer. You refused to stand down and you’re too arrogant to sign a peace treaty. Always seeking for war, always trying to conquer all the nine realms. You killed so many asgardians, your hands are dirty with their blood,” he said as he slowly made his way toward Yon. Now the lightning was dancing around his body, his eyes were glowing briefly, axe was held tight in his grip. Up above, the thunder growled as if it bows to his command.

Yon was calm even though adrenaline start filling his body, silently prepare him for the upcoming fight. Carol moved to stand in front of him, fists blazing so bright, ready to defend him.

They’ve come a long way since he found her on earth. Since the day she beat him up and sent him back to Hala. Since the day he finally realized what the Kree had been doing all these years and decided to turn his back on them.

He could still remember the times when he was on the end of those fists. Those weren’t good memories. They struggled so much back then but they had forgave each other now.

The man stopped in front of her. “So you’re with him?”

Carol glared. “He’s my partner.”

The man ignored her glare and stared straight at Yon.

“I’m not going to judge you because of your race. I know the miracle of your blood and it comes with a great risk. You came so sudden, fighting in a war that isn’t yours, and offering to help a stranger. What exactly do you want?”

Yon stilled. Right, what did he want?

If he answered nothing, would they believe him? Because that was the truth. He didn’t want anything, he just wanted to help. Would that be enough?

Everyone was looking at him, waiting for his answer. If Carol didn’t stand by him right now, they would surely arrest him in place. Unfortunately, fighting in war with them wasn’t enough to explain that he meant no harm. But if Yon was in their place, he’d do the same thing too. Just because you have the same enemy, doesn’t mean that you are friends. And he showed up so sudden they had the right to think that he had an ulterior motive.

“To help,” he said slowly. “I just want to help. Thanos turned me into dust and all of you brought me back. He brought me back. This is the least I can do.”

The man grumbled but he didn’t say anything. Yon felt dread pooling in his stomach. Of course his answer wasn’t enough. How could it be? He was from a world conquer race, to help was the last thing anyone would believe.

“Do you trust him?” the man rasped. He was talking to Carol. She nodded.

“With my life.”

There was a flutter in his stomach when she said that. Yon knew they had forgave each other a long time ago, but they didn’t actually expressed it in words. Yon trusted her with his life and she trusted him with her, but hearing those words made all of it seemed more real.

“I’m watching you,” the man said to him before he walked away. Yon released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

Carol turned to him, giving him that look again. He nodded.

“Do you need anything?” A blonde man in a dark blue suit asked. A terran, but he seemed like the leader of all these heroes from the way he carried himself, strong, wise, and charismatic.

Yon shook his head. “Your ship is destroyed,” he pointed to the biggest piece from the remains of the space ship scattered across the rubble. There was an exclamation of “Is that my ship?!” among the heroes in which he promptly ignored. “We have our own parked up there. You can come with us, but only a few because we don’t have much space. If you have another ship, you can follow us. We’ll give you the coordinates.”

The man nodded and Yon let him arrange the team. He then looked at Carol. “Can you bring the ship here?”

She crossed her arms. “You do realize what you’ve gotten yourself into right?”

“I’m sorry, Carol.”

She sighed. “We need to talk, Yon.”

He nodded. “After this. Ship first.”

“If only you didn’t destroy our shuttle pod.”

“I have to keep up with your entrance. I remember you used to complain a lot about that,” Yon frowned. “And please ride the ship. Don’t bring it with your hands like the last time we—“

He was cut off as she suddenly shot through the sky, leaving dust and dirt flying across his face. Yon sighed. She clearly did that on purpose.

* * *

The Skrull planet wasn’t that far from earth, only a few jump points. It’d take a few hours to get there if they used the highest speed. Yon was in the cockpit, controlling the engines and entering the coordinates while Carol and the other Avengers—from what Carol said about the group’s name—were carefully lying the dead man down in the healing pod.

Well it wasn’t actually a healing pod considering the body inside was lifeless, but it slowed down the decomposition process by freezing it so the body would be as fresh as possible when they arrive on the Skrull planet. A freezer then, but Yon felt silly to call it that.

Only three heroes came with them. The blonde man in dark blue suit, the man in grey iron suit, and the woman in light blue iron suit. They introduced themselves as Steve, Rhodey, and Pepper.

“I’m Yon-Rogg,” he said as a means of introduction and they nodded.

Carol led each of them into their room while explaining a bit about the inside of the ship so they wouldn’t get lost—which Yon was sure they wouldn’t because there wasn’t that much space and it would be so hard to get lost in it. After a while, she joined him back at the cockpit and they were finally alone.

She plopped down hard on her seat beside him and took a deep breath before she turned to him and said, “Why did you do this?”

“Do what?” he asked back.

“This. All of this,” she said as she spread her arms wide, gesturing at nothing in particular. “Why did you offer yourself?”

“Because I can.”

“No one will blame you if you don’t do this, you know.”

Yon shook his head and looked away. “This is the least I can do. I’ve done this to you before, I can do this to him.”

“You don’t know him. He’s a stranger.”

He wanted to laugh. “You’re stranger too the first time we met. Look where we are now.”

“Yeah. In the space ship, bringing you straight to death,” she said bluntly. He didn’t answer, so she continued.

“You told me that, you told me about the blood transfusion. Once is already risky enough, doing it the second time is the same as wishing for death. And we can’t use my blood because I’m not a Kree in the first place so tell me, Yon-Rogg, why did you do this?”

He still didn’t answer, eyes fixed on the view of the outer space around them, refusing to meet her gaze. Carol clenched her hands.

“Yon,” she called. He ignored it.

“Yon,” she called again. This time, he answered.

“There is a 20% chance that I’ll come out of this alive, you know,” he said softly. Carol bit her lip.

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

He shook his head and ignored her again. But Carol wouldn’t give up until he answered.

“Yon.”

“…”

“Yon, look at me.”

“…”

“You know I won’t give up until you do it.”

He sighed and finally looked at her. “What do you want, Carol?”

“The truth,” she said with a firm voice, staring at Yon intently.

“Look I—“ he started then cut himself off. Looking lost and unsure as his eyes darted everywhere across the outer space, searching for something and nothing at the same time. “I actually don’t know why I do this. But somehow it feels right.”

He took a deep breath before he continued. Carol patiently waited for him.

“I feel like, in another universe, in a world so different than the one we live in, I know him. And saving him is the most natural thing in the world. It’s like an everyday job. But at some point, I’m sure I fucked it up because I really don’t want to see him die again.”

He leaned back on the chair, covering both of his eyes with his hand. “This sounds ridiculous, I’m sorry. I literally sacrifice my life for some gut feeling that I don’t even know if it’s real or not, I—“ he laughed pitifully. “I’m sorry, Carol.”

Carol was silent for a moment before she answered.

“Alternate universe is real you know,” she said softly. “The Avengers made a few in order to save the universe. You’re not wrong,” she shook her head, voice heavy and thick with emotion. “But yes, it sounds ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. And I won’t skip the fact that you’re trying to die on me again.”

Yon sat up straight when he realized the implication in her words. He looked at her with wide eyes. There was that betrayed look in her gaze and he suddenly felt sick. Guilt settled heavy in his stomach.

God, he was so selfish.

He remembered the time when he came back after he was turned to dust. Carol hugged him so tight it was hard to breath and she cried and cried and cried until she finally stop and let him go. Her relief, tear-filled face came into his mind. The five years in his absence hit her so hard, harder than he ever dared to think about. She finally had him back but he was trying to die again.

Oh God, how dare he?

“Carol—“

“No. Stop, Yon. Don’t,” she smiled. It was strained and painful to see. His stomach churned at that. “We basically do that to each other on daily basis. Once one of us has made the decision, the other can’t change it no matter how stupid it is. The least we can do is to save each other’s asses. I won’t let you die. So you better not going to let yourself die too.”

Yon fell silent. He didn’t know what to say. They weren’t romantically involved but their relationship was certainly more than friends. Their bond ran deeper than the blood they shared. They were like a soulmate, completing each other’s half like they were meant to be. Yes, they didn’t start in good terms, but they understood each other now. They care for each other.

“I won’t,” he finally said softly, voice barely a whisper but she heard him clear.

“Promise me.”

“As long as you won’t cut your hair again when I’m back. You look hideous. I like the longer one better.”

“First, fuck you, Yon. You’re the one who complained about my hair being too easy to grab during a fight. Second, you haven’t promised me yet.”

Yon rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. I promise. I’m serious about the hair, though,” he said, feeling the weight on his chest lifted.

“Shut up, Yon,” she punched him in the arm lightly. She was laughing. He was smiling. And maybe both of their eyes felt a little bit moist but it was definitely not because of the tears. If it did—well, they happily ignored it.

* * *

Tony remembered dying.

He remembered the heavy weight of the infinity stones on his hand. How they sucked the life out of him until there was nothing left. He remembered the pain, the burn, and how the simple movement of snapping his finger made him felt like cutting off his own arm.

He remembered being so tired. He remembered how his body felt so numb, but there was definitely something throbbing somewhere. He remembered being so sleepy, wanting to take a rest but was too afraid of what happen next. He remembered suddenly feeling panic, Morgan’s face came into his mind and he felt like he couldn’t breath.

Oh God.

Pepper and Morgan. God, he couldn’t leave them. Morgan needs her dad and Pepper needs her husband. He couldn’t die. What would happen to them if he’s gone? He’d miss so many of Morgan’s first time. He wouldn’t be there to embarrass her in front of her friends like an annoying dad he plan to be. He wouldn’t be there to interrogate her first boyfriend, making sure that she will be in the right hand. He wouldn’t be there for her wedding and he wouldn’t be there to accompany Pepper in her old age.

God, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t die, not now, not when everything was so perfect and everyone was back and together again and he finally got what he wanted and—

“Mr. Stark, we won. Please don’t go, Tony..”

 _About damn time you call me that, kid._ He tried to say that but his mouth felt stiff. Hell, he couldn’t even open it. _You’re going to be great. Better than I’ll ever be.._

“Tony..” and there was Pepper. Beautiful Pepper. It hurt so much to see her cry. Tony wanted to reassure her. No, he wasn’t going to die. He wouldn’t leave them. He was still needed. Morgan needed her. Pepper couldn’t rise her alone. No, Tony wouldn’t let her.

But all that came out of his mouth was “Pep..” and it sounded so pitiful. Dread pooling in his stomach and the panic feeling came back. No, no, no, he wasn’t going to die, damn it. Not when he still had things to do. Not when everything just barely started. No he wouldn’t die. Please don’t let him die, he didn’t want to, _please please please—_

“It’s okay, Tony.”

There was silent acceptance in Pepper’s gaze and Tony felt himself lost in those tear-streaked eyes.

“You can rest now,” it was a whisper, a soft sound that he barely heard but he could clearly see her mouth moved. “We’ll be fine.”

And everything felt so light somehow, like a big heavy burden that he had no idea about its existence suddenly lifted from his chest. His body felt cold and something slip from his grasp.

Pepper’s face filled his vision and he was glad for that. She was beautiful. He still wondered how in hell he deserved her as his wife. She was his most precious and she gave him the greatest gift in his life. She had put up with him for so long and she deserved something for that.

He hoped the little twitch of his lips could pass as a smile.

 _Thank you,_ he thought to the greatest woman in his life, hoping the message would somehow reach her. _I love you._

The pain was gone, the cold was no more. And he must’ve closed his eyes because the darkness suddenly enveloped him even though he didn’t remember moving his eyelids. Was that something he would remember?

The ache in his muscle was gone and the panic feeling which was always there in his heart was lifted. He felt warm, content, and he felt like he could finally rest.

The sound was gone and the silence was a blessing. No more bombs, no more explosion. No more thunder growling in the sky, no more scream of a beast, no more sound of metal clashing with something, no more ear screeching noise of his energy blast. Only sweet, sweet silence.

He let go.

He was dead.

Until a voice cut through his rapidly disappearing consciousness.

“I can save him.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone helped me writing this chapter but she won't give me her account name. So yeah, tons of kudos for you, my friend.

Tony Stark had heard so many stories about the afterlife.

Some of them said that you go to whether heaven or hell. Others said that it is only a blank white space full of nothingness. Or maybe it is your most favorite place where you can be reunited with your lost one. There is also a theory which said that the afterlife is fake and you just become a ghost looking over your loved ones for all eternity.

He had some speculation of what he would experience when he died. He might have died as a hero, but it didn’t mean that all of his past sins could be forgiven in an instant. So when he opened his eyes to an endless range of darkness, he thought he deserved it.

His body felt so light like he was floating in the air—it made sense because after all, he was dead. As he looked through his surrounding, he realized that he had been peering through holes that eerily looked like his suit’s face plate. Bringing his hand up to his face confirmed this theory.

 _So even in the afterlife, I’m still Iron Man,_ he mused. It felt weird but there wasn’t any concrete fact about the afterlife so who was he to argue?

Suddenly, there was an explosion in front of him. Blazing fire lit up his surrounding, making him able to see what beyond the darkness. It wasn’t nothing at all. There was something there. Not one, but many. Huge and intimidating.

A ship. A vessel. The object of his nightmare for six long years in his life.

The chitauri.

His blood ran cold as the scene in front of him was really familiar. And he realized that he wasn’t floating. He was falling. He didn’t know if it was a good thing or not but one thing he knew was that he wasn’t falling fast enough for the explosion to not be able to reach him.

He tried to turn up his thruster but the suit was dead. It wouldn’t respond. Since when did his suit ran out of power?

 _I’m going to die,_ he thought through the haze of adrenaline and blind panic. _But I’m dead, right? How can a person die a second time—_

The fire licked his suit and he felt the heat through his armor. He didn’t know what happened—if this was the afterlife or not—but everything didn’t make any sense. One thing for sure, if the fire engulfed him—afterlife or not, dead or not—he would feel pain. Immense pain. He would be burned alive.

 _So my afterlife is a hell,_ he thought bitterly. As the fire reached him and the heat started to become unbearable, he closed his eyes. Pepper’s and Morgan’s faces came to his mind and his only regret was that if he were to die again, he wouldn’t have one of their face as the last thing he sees.

It felt different than the last time his vision went black. He felt warm back then, relax and content. It was like taking a break after a long day. The ache in his muscle was gone, the heavy guilt in his heart was lifted, and the deep fear in his mind vanished. It definitely didn’t feel like the sudden rush of wind hitting you hard on then face or the air turbulence growling in your ears. It didn’t feel like the adrenaline pumping in your vein and your body tense and rigid, ready to flee but not knowing where to.

It didn’t feel like falling.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to a bright blue sky.

The heat was gone, along with the darkness, the explosion, and those chitauri’s armies and vessels. And his mind, thinking about the memory he had experienced years ago, supplied thoughtfully, _A wormhole_.

He ignored it, ignored the way everything felt like a nostalgia to him, felt like a dream. Instead he focused on the present, on the way he was still falling from God knows how high.

He twisted his body, his mind screaming that everything didn’t make any sense but he forced himself to focus on how he can survive the fall. He spread his arms and legs as wide as possible in a futile attempt to slow down his fall. New York City greeted him. The old Avengers Tower—which looked a lot like the ‘A’ is part of a word instead of being the one big, single letter—greeted him. And the memory of flying a nuke through a wormhole back in 2012 hit him hard before the ground did.

He let himself screamed a very undignified sound that he would never admit of producing if a being ever ask him about it.

 _Who the hell caught me back then?_ He thought frantically. _Was it Bruce? Or Thor? Wait, does Thor even capable of flying without his hammer?_

He quickly searched for some softer ground to land but there was nothing. He was in the middle of a city, the only ground surrounded him was hard pavement and asphalt. And it was hard to position himself to land exactly on top of a car—even if he managed to, he wasn’t sure if it was enough to break his fall considering he had reached terminal velocity.

 _Think, Tony, think!_ He blindly thought, panic gripped his chest as he tried very hard to aim for a small red car just a few meter below him. _I’m already dead, am I not? So if I die again, it won’t be a problem, right? Except it will be so painful considering I’m going to crush my face into the ground. Wait, what if after this they will resurrect me and do it again? What if—_

His though was cut short as everything suddenly stopped. His face was a mere inches from the pavement, the red car he was aiming to was a few feet from his left. He breathed a sigh of relief both because of he somehow survived the fall and his aim turned out to be not that bad.

There were footsteps right in front of him and he craned his neck to see the figure. His eyes were met with a shock of blinding pair of golden irises.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The stranger didn’t answer, just flicking his wrist and Tony hit the ground with a grunt. 

* * *

 

It was always about the fall.

When he opened the door, he always wondered whether he could save him or not if he moved fast instead of freezing up. Everything happened too fast that for a moment, he thought it was only a mere imagination, something that your mind made up and would be instantly gone when you blinked or focused your vision. But the problem was, he didn’t blink and he was always focused.

He just stood there, staring, unable to move as the figure—someone important, a friend, a family, a _brother_ —disappeared from his sight. Lost to the sound of the waterfall and the ringing in his ears.

And then he would wake up.

The first time Yon had that dream, he asked his mother why did he cry because of a dream about a stranger whom he didn’t know and was so much older than him in a place he never visited. His mother just gave him that warm and reassuring smile, stroke his hair gently, and softly told him to sleep.

He didn’t get that dream often, not with all the hardship life threw at him. But when he did, it left him feeling like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

When he finally become a Starforce officer and had the tools to make his own weapon, he thought about the dream and how to stop the figure from falling. From there, came the gravity-controlling gauntlets. The Supreme Intelligence was so proud and impressed at him that it gave its own professional opinion on how to improve them. Yon thought that he finally did something right in his life.

But still, every time the dream came, no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop the fall.

When he saw the man in red iron suit sat against the stone, his right side burned and his breathing slowed, _dying_ , the familiar painful feeling came back. And he thought that he had failed again, failed to save a stranger who felt a lot more than a stranger. He was back on that balcony, standing in between the mahogany doors as everything was set in motion again. Too late. Always too late.

He looked down to his gauntlets, to the drop of blue from the rapidly healing cuts on his palm and thought, _No, it isn’t too late._

He felt like his life was so ironic that he gave the most important pieces of him to strangers. But Carol turned out okay in the end so everything would be fine, right?

He welcomed the feeling of life getting sucked out of him. He closed his eyes, feeling the warm of Carol’s hand gripped in his. When he opened them again, he was greeted with a bright blue sky, the view of so many skyscrapers surrounded him, and a red figure falling fast to the ground.

It was always about the fall.

But this time, he didn’t stop. He didn’t freeze up. He was running, arms reached out as far as possible as the gravity field started to form, hoping that this time it wouldn’t be too late. Hoping that he could make a difference. Hoping that he could save him.

And he did.

* * *

“So, you’re my guardian angel or something?” Tony asked casually as he struggled to stand up. Being used to nanotech armor made him forget just how heavy his suit used to be. The stranger threw him an incredulous look as if he couldn’t believe Tony just asked him that.

In his defense, Tony shrugged his shoulder. Still in his position sitting on the ground, not managing to stand due to his old suit being an actual pain in the ass.

“No,” the stranger answered shortly, walking around and kicking every chitauri corpses in his path.

“Figured as much. I mean, I picture myself more of a blonde woman type way,” Tony grunted as he failed to push himself up again. With a sigh, he gave up and proceed to taking off his armor piece by piece instead. “They’re dead, by the way. You don’t need to prolong their misery. They did nothing to you. I, on the other hand, have every right to kick and step them into pieces.”

The stranger didn’t say anything but Tony could see a small smirk etched slowly into his face. He took his advice to heart though, because he stopped doing it and instead searching for a comfortable spot to sit.

Tony took off the last piece of his armor and finally managed to stand with a triumph. He took in his surrounding and frowned at what he saw.

“Where are they?” he asked.

“Where are who?” the stranger shot back.

“My team, the civilians, basically anyone beside you, me, and this sorry excuse of a creature,” he gestured to the chitauri corpse lying on his feet and proceed to literally kick and step it to pieces. “Anyway, where are they? Where are we? And who the hell are you?”

“Not here, in your mind, and definitely not your guardian angel,” the stranger answered flatly.

“Your sense of humor astonishes me.”

“I’ve been told I have none.”

“And that, too.”

Tony sighed as he looked up to the sky. It was funny to think that not a few minutes ago, he was falling from a wormhole in the sky and managed to survive the fall because of a stranger who he met in what he believed to be 2012 New York right after the chitauri attack without anyone except him, the stranger, and tons of alien corpses. Afterlife sure felt really weird.

With a rope that he somehow found in the rubbles, he tied his suit and dragged it slowly to the direction of the Avengers Tower—or rather, Stark Tower considering he only changed the name a few days after the attack. His heart clenched at the thought that he was supposed to be with his team right now, eating shawarma in a rundown shop a few blocks from here.

It was a nice memory. He was tired and craving for a shower that time but at least the team was together. Now the realization that they wouldn’t be together again broke a small piece inside of him.

He pushed the guilt and sadness to the back of his mind as he felt the stranger’s eyes on him.

“I’m going to the tower. You coming?” The stranger nodded, stood up, and fell into step beside him.

“I’m Tony, by the way,” he offered his hand and the stranger shook it but otherwise didn’t say his name. Tony sighed.

“Alright, keep your secret. I’m going to call you Gravity Guy whether you like it or not.”

That got a reaction as ‘Gravity Guy’ frowned at him. Tony expected some protest or sorts, but he just asked in a curious voice, “How do you know it was gravity?”

“I’m a genius,” Tony replied shortly as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He could feel an eye roll directed at his way even though he didn’t see it. “Anyway, what will happen if you don’t stop my fall back then?”

There was a beat and the casual air between them changed into something he failed to identify. When he turned his head to his companion, Gravity seemed to find something interesting in the distance as the guy refused to look at him.

“You’ll die, of course,” the answer came in a voice so soft and low that Tony almost didn’t hear him.

“Huh, but I’m dead.”

Gravity shook his head. “You are dying.”

“Sorry to break it to you but dying comes first before being dead. I’m dead so there’s no way I’m dying right now.”

“You were dead. I make you dying again.”

The sentences sounded so unreal that Tony had to take a moment to decide whether his companion was joking or not. For the sake of his sanity and because he didn’t want to get his hope up, he settled down on the former.

He huffed out a laugh, clapping Gravity on the shoulder with his right hand as his left one was too busy dragging the heavy junk which was his suit. “You—what, resurrect me or something? Bringing me back alive?”

“Not yet,” the answer came and Tony felt his blood freeze. “But if you can stay alive through whatever this is—yeah, I can bring you back alive.”

The hand on Gravity’s shoulder fell and the footstep—along with the clink clank of metal—beside him stopped. He turned around and saw Tony staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Tell me you’re joking.”

The golden irises soften a little as the owner replied, “I’m not.”

And the answer sounded so honest that Tony felt his legs turn into jelly and he needed to take a break for it to sink in.

“You must be kidding me,” he cursed as he sat on the ground, putting his head on his hand. “You must be fucking kidding me,” and he breathed in because suddenly it was getting hard to breath and both of his eyes felt warm.

There was a soft rustle as Gravity took a seat somewhere near him, far enough to give him privacy but close enough that Tony could still feel his presence. He didn’t say anything, patiently waiting for Tony to regain his composure.

It wasn’t that Tony didn’t want it to be true. In fact, he wanted it so much it hurts. The possibility of seeing his wife and daughter again—to be with them, laugh with them, play with them, watching his daughter grow up with his wife by his side—sounded so impossible and untrue, yet so beautiful and he desperately wanted it to be real. But he didn’t want to get his hope up because reality is cruel and he was scared that it turned out to be a mere lie.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” he rasped as he forced Gravity to look at him, eyes staring with hope and fear to those golden irises which were the first most beautiful thing he saw in this weird world. “Tell me that you’re lying. Tell me that this isn’t real, this is the afterlife, I’m dead, I’m not coming back, and you’re my guardian angel, anything—just,” he took a deep breath.

“Tell me. Please,” Because if it was an outright lie, he could take it. No matter how harsh and cruel it is, he could take it. He had gotten used to it in real life. He just didn’t want to hope so hard and have it crushed into pieces later.

Gravity returned his gaze, pouring as much honesty as he could into the eye contact. His mouth moved and Tony braced himself for it, braced himself for the ‘Yes’ that he desperately didn’t want to hear but needed to because otherwise everything wouldn’t make any sense.

But instead, Tony heard a “No, I’m not lying. And stop with the guardian angel, please. It sounds ridiculous. How you terrans come up with that term is beyond me.”

And Tony laughed—actually it was a mixture of laughter and tears but if anyone ask him about it, he was definitely laughing—not only because of how mad and insane the universe had become, but also because of how his companion truly looked uncomfortable when he said it.

He laughed, he cried, and he was breaking down bit by bit in his own silent way, hugging himself as a burst of laughter and sob forced their way down his throat. Not making a sound but still enough to make his body trembled. He thought about Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey, Happy, Steve, Peter, Bruce, Thor, Clint—he stopped himself right there because he wasn’t ready to think about _her_ —he thought about how he would be able to see his family and friends again, how he got a second chance again, how he was so happy that his chest felt like it might burst.

He covered his face with both of his hands, closing his eyes as he tried to take a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. He turned his head to Gravity who was looking away from him, staring into the distance, face void of any emotion as if he was ignoring Tony but Tony knew better. He was giving him space for his brief mental break down and Tony was grateful for it.

It took a few minutes but when Tony was sure his voice wouldn’t tremble even for a bit, he spoke.

“Thank you for doing this,” He said earnestly, voice surprisingly steady as his calm composure slowly took over once again. He softly sniffed, wiping his tears discreetly in cover of wiping the dirt from his face even though he knew Gravity still wasn’t looking at him. The other just nodded.

“You’re not a human, aren’t you?” Tony asked, slipping back to his old self. He sprawled on the ground, straighten his legs in front of him as he leaned back on both of his arms, eyes wondering back up to the blue sky. His mind recalling Gravity’s sentence when he said ‘terrans’ as if he was referring to humanity as a whole instead of Tony alone. “What are you?”

“I’m a Kree,” came the answer. Tony waited for further explanation but there was none, as if those three words alone was enough to explain everything. Well, for Tony—who had spent his life ransacking SHILED’s secret upside down and all over again—it was enough.

“Blood transfusion, huh?” he hummed. Gravity turned to him, face still frustratingly bare of any emotion except the slight widening of his eyes, a small indication that told Tony he was surprised on how Tony knew about it. Tony beamed in triumph. “Let’s just say I’ve been fooling around the earth’s most secret spy agency for years.”

Gravity smirked, rolling his eyes.

The comfortable silence fell between them so naturally, as if they had spent a long time together instead of two stranger who had just barely met in a land of dream. They just sat there, looking through the distance of a ruined city and feeling the light breeze ticking their skin. Tony was studying Gravity’s hair as the soft curl danced gently with the wind before a frown made its way onto his face and he decided to break the moment.

“What will happen to you?” he asked, remembering from the SHIELD file he read so many years ago that they had used a dead Kree—a corpse—instead of a living one to bring back the dead.

“I’ll live,” the Kree said after a beat, as if he was thinking about it before answering. It didn’t sound convincing at all but Tony decided to let it go.

“Anyway, we need to go,” he said while standing up, patting the dust off his pants and grabbing the rope which tied up his suit once more. “You’re a great companion in silence, I’ll admit. But I still have tons of question for you and you’ll find my tower—no matter how barely standing it looks like—a much more comfortable place than here. And I’m going to treat you to the greatest wine on earth because you deserve it—that is if I can find one considering we’re not in the real world right now. What did you say before? That we’re in my mind?”

“Yes,” Gravity replied. A very short answer in contrast to Tony’s long ramble.

Tony just nodded. “Right, my own mind is trying to kill me. Come on, hop hop. Let’s go,” he patted Gravity on the shoulder, urging him to stand up. The other just sighed and followed him.

They fell into steps once more. Two different sound of footsteps with the clink clank of metal followed behind. Tony leaned in close to Gravity’s ears as he said, “You know, you saved me back there so I assume you’re going to save me every time I’m in danger. And that, dear, is the equivalent of a guardian angel.”

Gravity groaned, annoyed, and punched his shoulder hard enough to push the other man away, though not enough for it to be hurt. That earned him a hearty laugh from Tony.

“Oooh, now we’re going into shoulder-punching, huh? Glad that our relationship—“

“Relationship?" Gravity questioned which made Tony smiled even more, suddenly feeling nostalgic.

“Very well, partnership has taken into a whole new level.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just put in a reference to the Reichenbach Fall scene in Sherlock Holmes : A Game of Shadows. There will be more of it in the future. If you don't get it, I suggest you watch both of RDJ's Sherlock Holmes movies first.


	3. Chapter 3

It felt like a dream.

And like all dream, he didn’t know when it started.

When he came to himself, he felt his body swayed rhythmically. There was music in his ear, a melody of sorrow and loneliness, of frustration and madness. It took a while for him to realize that those long, thin, slender fingers was his, no longer those rough, scarred, oil coated one. Fingers in which their movement he couldn’t control.

A pair of chocolate eyes stared deeply at him through the reflection on the window. The man in front of him looked a lot like him yet on the same time so much different. He was a mess—shoulder length hair which was in disarray and a few days old stubble adorned his chin—but beneath them, it was his own face who stared right back at him. His own face without his short hair and his trademark goatee.

Through the window, he could make out a setting that reminded him of those in war films—no, even older than that. A victorian setting.

He felt dizzy and his mind was foggy. He couldn’t control his body, it was like watching things from someone else’s eyes. He just went on with the flow of movement from the body that didn’t feel like his, though he was quite aware with everything that happened around him.

There was a soft knock on the door which was ignored on the first try. But the one on the other side was insistent as the knock came pouring without stopping on the second try. The melody abruptly stopped and a groan filled the entire room.

“In, Stamford!”

There was a pause before the door creaked open and a head peaked inside.

“How do you know it’s me?”

The annoyance felt real. “Simple. I told you about my wish to acquire a flatmate this morning. That makes two people of whom I expect to come through my door today. And Lestrade’s steps are less heavy.”

Through the haze of his mind, he felt like his world was turned upside down. The voice was his own but was that heavy british accent he just heard?

The man on the door opened up his mouth, probably to make a retort against the not so subtle mention of his weight, but decided against it. Instead, he opened the door wide enough for him and his companion to come in.

He felt his body moved, draped unceremoniously on the nearest sofa with the violin on his lap. The bow was discarded somewhere on top of the table—or landed near it, he wasn’t sure—and he proceed to play the instrument with his fingers.

“As always, you’re right. I found someone. Holmes, meet John Watson. He—“ Stamford began only to be cut off quickly by his finger.

_Holmes,_ he thought, trying to commit the name into memory. _This body—this man’s name is Holmes. What a weird name._

Holmes’ eyes moved to assess the unknown man in front of him and—as he was sharing Holmes’ vision—he was surprised at how many details suddenly filled his eyesight. It was like having an enhanced sense where he could see everything, even the smallest object. He could see the dirt under the man’s boot, the tan skin peeked under his sleeves, the surface of the wood which made up his cane, and the depth of blue in those irises.

Those details turned into information and he suddenly felt overwhelmed as his thought was filled to the brim.

“You’re a medical man. A doctor—a military doctor to be exact,” he felt his own lips moved as his voice—Holmes’ voice—began. He didn’t know how his own mind worked anymore but there was something ticked him as Holmes asked, “What’s lodged in your leg?”

The man was taken aback, surprised etched openly on his face. He looked at Stamford in confusion but the other just shrugged as if this was a normal occasion. “I’m sorry?”

“There’s still something trapped there, between the muscles. That’s why you’ll never have a full function of your leg again. Hence, the cane. A bullet, perhaps. What kind of bullet?”

A pause. The doctor opened his mouth and then closed it again, gaping like a fish outside of the water. He heard Stamford sighed as the bigger man gestured to the doctor. “Just answer him.”

The doctor looked unsure but he eventually gave in. “Jezail,” he answered.

Holmes hummed. “Aah, deadly little fellow. Maiwand, is it?”

The doctor was tense as he nodded.

The body moved, taking a few steps until he was right in front of the doctor, who took a step back to maintain the distance. Clear blue eyes met chocolate one and he couldn’t help but think that those familiar irises should’ve been golden yellow—bright like the sun.

“I’m going to hold on to your cheque book.”

The reaction was immediate. Confusion turned into disbelief and almost turned into anger. “Excuse me?”

Holmes’ voice was—he had to admit—annoyingly flat. “You’re a gambler, not a good one to be exact. That’s why you are looking for a flatmate because you don’t have enough money to pay for this month’s rent which—I guess—is due today. I want to turn you away because no one want to share a flat with a potential thieve but I see that this gambling is actually your way to cope with your PTSD and occurring nightmare—though it is certainly not a good coping mechanism. But you’re aware of the fact that this habit of yours isn’t healthy and you really want to change your life so I’m giving you that chance on the account that I will be holding on to your cheque book.”

The punch was expected. Well, he didn’t see it coming but Holmes certainly did. His hand automatically shot up to grab the doctor’s wrist hard, preventing the punch from connecting to his cheek. Holmes’ leaned in to the doctor’s ear and whispered.

“And I’m going to hold on to your revolver, too. I don’t want to lose a possible flatmate the second you walk out of this door, doctor.”

The image of the doctor shooting himself right on the head flashed through his mind. The signs were clear as his eyesight zoomed in to the heavy bags under the doctor’s eyes, the thin body and the shiver beneath those thick garments, and the bulge of a revolver peeking out underneath his coat. If Holmes turns him away right then, the doctor would go back to his room and ending his life.

The dead stare and the absent of light from those clear blue irises were enough to convince him that Holmes’ deduction was true.

Holmes’ cold words might have hit something deep inside the doctor as he watched the fight or flee instinct on the other man’s feature gave out. The doctor’s back slumped in defeat as he leaned heavier on his cane.

“How do you know that?” the doctor asked softly as Holmes let go of his hand.

“Observation,” the answer came out so simple without any explanation. Holmes silently thrust his hand for the cheque book and the revolver.

“I need my cheque book to get home,” the doctor protested weakly.

“Very well, the revolver then.”

“That’s it then. We’ll be flatmate without me giving my concern about you?”

Holmes merely cocked his head. “I think you’re not in the place to choose your flatmate, doctor.”

The doctor sighed. “Fair enough. But I know nothing about you. I don’t even know your name.”

“Sherlock Holmes, at your service,” Holmes answered as he flicked the doctor’s hat, making the other man flinched at the unexpected movement. He thrust his hand out again. “Now the revolver, please.”

The doctor wordlessly handed the revolver to Holmes, ignoring how Stamford studied the exchange with wide eyes as if the bigger man had just realized something had happened—well, would happen if Holmes didn’t act on it. Before Stamford has the chance to say anything, the doctor hastily made his retreat.

Inside Holmes’ mind, he watched the doctor wobbled unsteadily as the man went down the stairs. The hand which gripped the cane was knuckle white and trembling. Stamford started to follow his friend but not before he shot Holmes a look.

“You should’ve been nicer too him.”

And he couldn’t agree more. He knew that he wasn’t much better than Holmes—he had treat others like shit too—but it was all in the past. Hell, he was sure that even his past self would treat a war veteran—and someone with a disability at that—better than Holmes. If only he could move the body, he would totally hit himself right now.

The door closed with a bang as Stamford disappeared and he was left alone once more.

And then, he woke up.

* * *

When Tony woke up, he expected to see the roof of his old Avengers Tower over his head, not the blazing sun shining down right on him so mercilessly and the endless sea of sand surrounding him. There was heavy metal pieces scattered around and on top of him, and a little bit of digging resulted in him finding one that looked like a helmet. The holes which stared right back at him were the oldest ancestor of his newest nano face plate.

Tony sighed.

Actually, he didn’t really understand what Gravity had meant when the kree said he could bring Tony back alive if the genius could survive through whatever this is. Tony didn’t know what the sentence means but he was too caught up on relief to really think about it. He thought that he only had to stay alive in 2012 New York for God knows how long until Gravity could resurrect him.

He thought that _this_ only means the fall, not other near death memory that he had experienced back when he was alive.

He had never been so wrong.

He struggled to get up, the sand burned his naked skin. He adjusted the piece of cloth hanging over his head so it could somewhat blocked his face from the goddamn sun. In the distance, he could see a lone figure walking toward him. He had a guess on who the figure is, but his body was automatically tensed as it prepared him to face the unknown potential threat.

He was instantly relax as the face of the figure came into view. The pair of familiar golden eyes met his own and he couldn’t help but breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” Tony greeted the other man who just nodded in response. He took in the appearance of his companion and immediately frowned. “What the fu—take off your clothes.”

The reaction was expected. Gravity scrunched up his face in confusion and a little bit of shock. “What?”

“I said, take off your clothes,” Tony repeated his own words, exasperation colored his voice.

“What, why?”

The genius just stared in disbelief at the other man. The answer was so obvious, how the Kree had missed it was beyond him. “You’re wearing a dark blue tactical suit in the middle of a desert. Dark color adsorbs the heat and the thick material traps it. You’re basically wearing an oven right now.”

Gravity looked down on his suit as if he just realized he was wearing it. Now that Tony mentioned it, he felt himself being cooked alive. The suit was so heavy and stuffy, it suffocated him. He knew the genius was right but stripping down his suit—his armor—felt like making himself vulnerable and without defense, letting his own weakness bared for the world to see. He knew it wasn’t something he should worry about in this situation—where he would surely die if he continues wearing it— but he couldn’t help himself.

Tony’s voice was impatient as it brought him out of his own thought. “Come on, you do wear something underneath that, don’t you?”

Gravity shot him an offended look. He could feel a trickle of sweat running freely down his spine. “Of course I do.”

“Then what are you waiting for? I’ll even turn around if you want,” and before Gravity had the chance to say something, Tony turned his back to him. “Come on. Hurry,” he urged.

Gravity internally gave up. He still felt uneasy but he had no choice. It would be stupid if he dies because of his own clothing. He proceed to take off his suit. It was a one piece and considering he only wore T-shirt and shorts underneath, he only took off the top and secured it on his waist.

“There. I’m done.”

Tony turned around, studied his soft white T-shirt and—despite the uniform pants he still wore—smiled in satisfaction. “See? Now you look less like a walking oven.”

Gravity tried to hold back his laugh at the chosen words that Tony used, though a small smile managed to cross his face for a moment. He took a water bottle from his right pants’ pocket and handed it to Tony who took it gratefully.

There was a rushed “Thanks,” before the other man chucked down the water in one go. The kree—with nothing t do—crouched down and inspected the scattered pieces of metal around them. He ran his fingers slightly on one that looked like a helmet, the heat bit his fingertips. It looked like the face plate of the metal suit he had seen the man wore—albeit more ancient. How it could function to protect the head of the wearer, he would never know.

“It was my first suit,” Tony supplied after he was done drowning himself with water, eyes looking at the source of his companion’s curiosity. His voice sounded less scratchy now. “We’re in 2008, by the way. Some group of terrorist kept me in captive inside a cave and forced me to make them a weapon as an exit ticket. I made this instead and forced my way out myself.”

Gravity hummed, not really sure what to say about the information offered. He stood back up and looked at the vast distance surrounded him, voice unsure as he asked, “Where are we going now?”

Tony squinted his eyes at him. Whether it was because of the bright sun or it was actually part of his expression, Gravity didn’t know. Though his voice sounded a little bit high as he asked back, “You’re asking me?”

The kree wanted to answer but he was cut off as the genius continued to ramble. “Hell, I don’t even know what is happening here. I don’t know why we are here in the first place instead of my tower. I swear the last thing I remember is walking—I don’t remember sleeping or being unconscious and the next thing I know, I woke up with the sun beating down on my face. Different place, different year. I thought I’m going to be in 2012 New York forever until you can bring me back. So, what in the goddamn hell happen here?”

Gravity just sighed. “Look, like I said before, we’re in your mind. And yes, your mind is trying to kill you because you’re naturally already dead. I can only bring you back if you manage to survive. You have survived the fall, so of course it’s trying to find a new way to kill you.”

“By throwing me into all my near death memories?”

“Well, what else can it do?” Gravity replied with a shrug.

Tony shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Not everything always make sense.”

“Okay,” Tony began, “So, you’re my guardian angel—“

“Can you please stop with that,” Gravity cut him off, irritation clear in his voice. Tony shot him a look as if he was offended.

“Why don’t you want me to call you that? Everyone wants to be my guardian angel—“

At this point, the kree covered his face with his palm. “Tony—“

“They even make a _channel_ about it. Why are you—?”

“Ton—“

“Right,” The genius held up his hands. “Look, I appreciate you being my guardian angel but the reason why I can survive all those near death experiences is because of the help of so many people. No offense, you’re great, but I don’t think one man is enough.”

Gravity opened his mouth as if he wants to say something but decided against it and closed his mouth again. He shook his head, rubbed his hand to the back of his neck, and looked at Tony in defeat. “You’re right,” he said softly. “So you just want to give up? To be honest, I can’t help you if you already give up."

“What, no!” Tony denied. “My point is it will be hard as hell to save me and if you fail, it’s not your fault.”

“Look, I won’t—“

“Wait, not entirely your fault. There’s a little bit of this grey area where it’s your fault. I mean, I’m super glad seeing you here and giving me a bottle of water—you’re very kind—but I’ll be a lot happier if I see you standing inside a helicopter or a jeep or any kind of vehicle, really.”

Gravity pursed his lips at Tony. “Now, you’re just being unfair.”

“Kidding,” Tony smiled. “Now, can your gravity gauntlets fly us out of here?”

“I can’t. I’ve tried turning them up when I landed here, they just wouldn’t respond. My jet thrusters too,” and to prove his point, Gravity tried to turn his gauntlets on. There was a beep of light before the weapon died entirely. His thrusters were even worse, they were totally unresponsive.

Tony looked so done. “That’s it. After this, I’m designing your tech.”

“Be nice. They are the one who saved you back in New York.”

“Our luck, huh,” Tony shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We walk, then.”

“Where to?” asked Gravity.

Tony took a moment to respond, trying to remember what direction the helicopter had gone to when Rhodey rescued him. Everything looked frustratingly the same here. Only endless golden of sand as far as the eye can see in every direction. He ended up following his gut instinct and pointed at random.

“There, I think,” he replied, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “Let’s hope there is some kind of oasis right there—the real one, not a mirage.”

Tony didn’t know whether Gravity really believed him or he did look that convincing, but the kree just nodded and started to follow him.

They fell into step side by side as if they were used to it. There was a wave of nostalgia and Tony found that the feeling was familiar, as if having the other man beside him was the most righteous feeling in the world, as if they had been doing these for years. Tony remembered his dream and found that his heart ached for something he couldn’t identify. Something that he had gripped right in the palm of his hand but kept slipping as the second ticked by.

It surprisingly wasn’t about Pepper or Morgan—wasn’t about his friends or family. It was something else. Something entirely new and foreign yet in the same time was painfully familiar and missed.

Gravity’s voice broke him out of his own thought. It was low and—for a moment, Tony swore that it sounded a little bit British. “I’m sorry I can’t help you more.”

Tony just looked at his companion for a moment, studied his soft curl as it danced along with the wind, and how those irises seemed like they melted along with the sand. He gave the other man a sad smile and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself too low. You being here is already more than most has ever done to me.”

And Tony wasn’t lying. He had many enemies before he had many friends. So many people had hurt him more than they had helped him. What Gravity was doing right now is already more than half of his friends had ever done to him.

The corner of the kree’s mouth twitched upward as he replied, “You’re being sentimental.”

“Well, we are in a desert. Lady Death is hovering above us right now so of course I’m being sentimental.”

“You’re not going to die, you know,” Gravity said softly, voice thick with determination. He let his eyes close for a moment, imagining Carol’s face in his mind. He tucked his hand to his pocket, trying to look casual as he counted the beef jerkies inside. The one full water bottle felt heavy on his left pants’ pocket.

“I won’t let you,” he continued and it sounded final. Like he was signing a death sentence— _his own_ death sentence. Maybe he was. Maybe they were. One thing for sure, from the start, it was always less than twenty percent.

Tony grinned as if he had won a lottery. If the genius had noticed something in Gravity’s voice, he didn’t say it. “There you go, my dear guardian angel.”

There was a groan. “Shut up, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's a bit late. I've scrapped 5 drafts for this. I think I have to find myself a beta reader. Anyone interested?


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